


ashen skies

by freyq (antiva)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Drabbles, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, mlm author, sad men not being sad with each other, these aren't necessarily chronological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiva/pseuds/freyq
Summary: A series of drabbles focused around Jesse and Genji, and what could have been between them in Blackwatch.





	1. transience

 

The evening is quiet. McCree takes note of it in his mind and appreciates it, lighting a cigar as he approaches one of the cliffs in Gibraltar.

 

Amongst the missions, there hasn't been much time to sort out his thoughts on his past, present, and future, as well as on his own emotional state. Blackwatch does not grant therapy to the people it accepts. Jesse doesn't expect it.

 

As he sits down on one of the rocks, cigar between his lips and eyes squinting to see ships sailing somewhere near the horizon, nothing becomes clearer, but everything becomes easier to breathe with. His name suddenly bears no burdens. His shoulders feel a bit less tense.

 

“Jesse,” comes a hoarse murmur from a few meters away. He doesn't startle. He knows who the voice belongs to, and he's used to its owner being undetectable.

 

“Hey,” he manages to reply in a soft voice, “Genji.” He likes the name, a lot.

 

“Is everything alright?” The cyborg's voice is strained, and Jesse holds his breath for a bit to think on how far they've come; Genji wouldn't speak to him or most others at all just a few weeks ago. Now, he makes attempts at empathy.

 

“Nothin' I wanna burden you with, sweetheart,” Jesse drawls in reply, careful as if he was playing with a bag of explosives. Perhaps he is, but Genji's no less human than himself. “Wanna sit here with me?”

 

Genji's footsteps rustle the grass. He sits on the rock next to Jesse, tense, clad in a grey jumpsuit. “Smoking is bad for your health.” He says this every time, a rehearsed line that never fails to make McCree laugh. Perhaps this is what he's aiming for.

 

“Nothing's worse for my health than being alive,” Jesse chuckles in reply, looking up at Genji's face with all the fondness he's feeling. “You been feeling lonely, huh?”

 

Genji looks away. Jesse knows to take it as a yes.

 

“It's okay,” he says, looks the man up and down and suggests, “want me to put an arm around you? Like I did last time, maybe.” Asking Genji about touch is like walking on a barely-frozen over lake, for now, and McCree gets it, he really does. He's been there, touch-starved and touch-averse.

 

Genji, however, gives him a nod and shifts a bit closer.

 

Jesse puts an arm around him, just like he promised.

 

The world turns just a little bit less hostile.


	2. family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Genji is different than the one who had a lot of things to apologize for, at least according to his family.

 

“Do you have a family, Jesse?” Genji asks one of the sleepless nights they spend upon a roof of one of the Watchpoint buildings. McCree is shivering where he's sitting on the concrete. Genji is unaffected by the cold, and so he stands tall, almost threatening.

 

“Y'know Reyes and the other Blackwatch folks I'm close to could damn well be my blood,” Jesse responds casually, blowing smoke out of his mouth. “Also, you can sit down.”

 

Genji promptly ignores the second sentence, only inclining his head a little to look at McCree more directly. “I meant family that really is blood.”

 

“What, you really wanna know?” Jesse takes a deep drag of his cigar. “Well. Guess I do, somewhere. If they're still alive.”

 

“You don't keep in touch?” Genji seems to know this is an odd thing to ask, but he doesn't stop himself, fidgeting a little bit where he stands, finally breaking the facade.

 

McCree chuckles at that, bitter but not offended. “I ended up in a gang at fifteen, darlin'. Got cut off. Don't know what's happened to my siblings ever since.” This is a simplified version of the story. Jesse figures he can spare Genji the one where he sees one of his brothers die.

 

Genji does not say anything in response. He looks away, awkward; this doesn't put tension between them, at least not more of it than is usually present, but it is clear he has no clue how to react. Eventually, he joins Jesse, sitting down right next to him. “I'm... sorry,” he whispers, voice strained as if he's never known such words before. As if. Of course he does know, but this Genji is different than the one who had a lot of things to apologize for, at least according to his family.

 

Neither of them are well-versed in empathy.

 

“Don't worry your pretty head about it.” As Jesse replies, he feels Genji's elbow digging into his side, urgent without wanting to appear as such. “Wanna get cuddly, huh?” he teases, but there's no real bite to it. He wraps his arm around Genji's back, like he often does, these days. He assumes moving a little bit closer to share some warmth will not cross any of Genji's boundaries, but it will be pretty damn close to that.

 

Genji surprises him, however: he shifts, and leans on Jesse, puts his head on his shoulder. The metal mask around his lower face and forehead never comes off, but it's like he almost considers it when the edge of it tugs on Jesse's serape and Genji's hands fly up to his face for just a split-second. They soon drop, but one of them comes up to hold McCree's hand. Metal thumb rubs against metal palm, the one painfully obvious thing their bodies have in common. Both of them hold their breath for just a moment.

 

“Jesse,” Genji starts, but then pauses for at least a minute. He opens his mouth and closes it, searching for words to form into whatever he wants to say. “Am I your family?” he finally asks, and McCree almost whistles at how far away this question is from the usual Genji, closed off, uncertain, seemingly unfeeling. He stops himself before it happens, decides to draw conclusions later, and instead ponders his answer. Some obvious things need a moment to breathe before being said out loud.

 

“Yeah,” he ends up murmuring, and as he hears Genji's sharp inhale, he squeezes the fingers holding his. “'Course you are.”


	3. stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some beautiful things deserve to be learned about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you [adrian](https://twitter.com/zerochoirs) for the prompt ily

 

After a particularly difficult mission in Switzerland that costs one of the Blackwatch agents his life, Jesse finds Genji in a secluded spot away from the Watchpoint buildings. As he spots the top of his visor reflecting the moonlight, he knows he has been spotted as well; he doesn't mind. He says nothing.

 

Genji's palm moves ever so slightly. Come, sit with me, the gesture says. Jesse follows.

 

Something isn't right. As he sits down on top of his serape, he turns to Genji, only to see that his eyes are damp and the red in them is brighter and more artificial than usual.

 

“Bad night?” Jesse asks, unsure what to do in this situation. Genji doesn't cry, hasn't cried since they've met, at least not in McCree's presence.

 

“Back in Hanamura, there would be nights when I chose to sit outside and watch the stars all night,” Genji half-whispers, ignoring Jesse's question. “Sometimes, it was with a lover. Most of the time, alone.”

 

“You know a lot about stars?” Jesse inquires, half intrigued by the night sky, half by Genji. At a closer look, he doesn't seem to be crying; his eyes are shining with the remnants of tears, but it seems it was just a passing feeling finding its way out. Either way, he looks beautiful, and not for the first time today, McCree wishes to see his face behind the mask.

 

Genji's smile is hidden, but Jesse can see it in the way his cheeks and eyes shift as it appears. “Only bits and pieces. I am – was – pretty shallow. My interests lay in looking at beautiful things, and sometimes I forgot to learn about them.” Saying these words, Genji turns to Jesse, eyes still smiling, a hint of smugness in them and on his tongue.

 

“Well, we've got something in common, then,” McCree replies, staring back into Genji's eyes with no shame to stop him. “Some beautiful things deserve to be learned about, though.”

 

Genji breaks the eye contact and starts laughing quietly, looking away and down, and by the time he stops, Jesse has dared to reach out across the few inches between them and hover his hand above Genji's own. A flirt, a question, a request; Genji becomes silent and responds in kind, tilts his hand up to let Jesse cover it with his warm palm.

 

“Where I grew up, you didn't really stay outside past midnight,” Jesse says, relaxing and tugging on Genji's hand to cradle it in both of his own, to warm it up. Perhaps Genji doesn't feel the chill, but the protective plating on his knuckles has taken it and feels like ice on Jesse's skin. “But I met a boy, once, who did anyway. Encouraged me to sneak out with him, too,” he chuckles without much humor to it. “One day, he didn't show up where I usually saw him. Suffices to say I'm glad I didn't go with him the night before.” He stares at their joined hands, suddenly lost in thought.

 

“You are safe now,” comes Genji's calming voice. “To stay outside at night, at least.”

 

“I am,” Jesse says, and lifts Genji's hand up towards his face; he stops halfway, though, confused and uncertain and, maybe, sad. “That's about it, though.”

 

“It doesn't have to be,” and Genji tugs his hand out of Jesse's grip, scaring him a little. He uses it to support himself as he turns to face McCree. Their eyes meet; Genji brings his other hand up to Jesse's face. “It doesn't have to be.”

 

Jesse leans into the touch.


	4. breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only parts of Genji could feel the temperature; Jesse, however, worried about all of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to [adrian](https://twitter.com/zerochoirs)!! i luv him and he's the reason i'm into mcgenji so if this drabble isn't good i'm deactivating myself.

 

The day is over, but Reyes and Morrison's quarrel isn't; Genji and Jesse sit in one of the rooms of the Swiss Watchpoint and watch the sky darken gradually, from time to time exchanging looks as they hear one of the commanders' raised voice through the office doors. They'd rather not listen in, but they were not dismissed, and it seems Reyes forgot that he was meant to come back for them after all.

 

“If he's not out by the time the sun hides behind that roof, I'm going in and, knowing Morrison, getting killed,” says McCree, fiddling with the cigar he's not allowed to light. Genji watches him with amused eyes. 

 

“There are things to be done before he puts you in the meat grinder, Jesse.” He scratches his scalp and bends into a stretch. “Although a quick death does seem preferable to rotting in here.”

 

“You're glad I'm trapped cause I ain't smoking.”

 

“That would be true but, alas, I am stuck here with you,” Genji says, and then, as if summoned, Reyes opens the door. Jesse and Genji stand up, ready to go in for whatever he needs to talk to them about.

 

“Dismissed.” The door slams shut.

 

Jesse and Genji's voices get temporarily stuck in their throats.

 

“Well that was a whole lotta waiting for nothing,” says McCree, distraught; then, a second after, he seems to completely forget about it as he turns on his heel and walks straight outside, cigar in hand.

 

Genji follows, but not before he grabs a coat off the hangers. It's a simple design, black thick material, a result of McCree not wanting to see him in simple uniform jumpsuit over his cybernetics out in the autumn cold. Only parts of Genji could feel the temperature; Jesse, however, worried about all of him. It was strangely endearing.

 

Genji finds Jesse – the hypocrite – in a simple shirt, having apparently chosen the breeze over the concrete freezing his butt off, as he's sat on top of his serape right behind the main building. Some tension is gone from his shoulders as he smokes the long-awaited cigar.

 

“Smoking is bad for your health,” Genji murmurs, seating himself next to Jesse on the serape and nudging him with a hip so he moves over. He sighs, frustrated. “I do wish I could still smoke, though.”

 

“You used to?”

 

“Not regularly. Just, when I was nervous about something.”

 

“And what are you nervous about, sweetheart?” McCree takes a long drag of it and looks Genji carefully in the eye as he slowly lets the smoke out. “Y'can be chill with me, you know,” he nods up at the sky, indicating the weather, “sometimes even literally.”

 

“You know very well I am unable to be chill, Jesse,” Genji looks back at him, “even literally.”

 

McCree laughs, with a bit of disbelief perhaps, and he knows he shouldn't mention it but there's something about these small, slow changes that makes him think that maybe, some day, Genji will be okay. Despite everything that's happened, or because of everything that is yet to happen.

 

For now, he isn't. Jesse can't fix him, wouldn't dare to try – he's not a biotic field or Angela Ziegler or Genji himself, but he is McCree, and he can provide a space to heal.

 

So he says, “take your time,” and he keeps on smoking his cigar and looking up at the sky.

 

Gradually, Genji begins to lean against him where they're side to side on the serape, and Jesse feels all the remaining tension leave his shoulders. Genji's truly something else. He's known this for a while, now.

 

Genji's got his hands folded in his lap, and Jesse reaches out to cover them with his own. He makes sure not to flinch at the cold of the plating.

 

“Jesse,” comes, in a shaky voice, the response to the action, and his hand is grabbed and pulled gently up. He lets Genji lead it, noticing his tightened brow and wide-open eyes, until it rests at the back of Genji's head. “Press down with your thumb, please.”

 

McCree obeys. Genji sighs.

 

The metal mask falls off the front of Genji's face and into his palm. Jesse almost drops his cigar but, slow on the uptake though he is, he soon regains composure.

 

Genji won't look up. He's staring into the inside of the mask like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“Darlin',” Jesse murmurs, “That what you've been nervous about?”

 

He gets a timid nod. This is hard for Genji – his palm is visibly shaking, knuckles white where he holds the mask – but his other hand is still holding Jesse's behind his head. Jesse takes advantage of it, tugging on it and bringing it to his chest to cradle it in both of his hands, as he often does.

 

Genji looks up, eventually, and his eyes go up from his mask through McCree's legs to where their palms are joined. Jesse's seen pictures of him from Before, and he couldn't say he hasn't tried to imagine what that face looks like now. He's also rehearsed countless versions of how he was going to react when – if – Genji ever shows himself to him, in case he's scarred, changed, in case his face is too painful of a reminder of what cruel things had happened to him; obviously, though, he is caught off-guard.

 

There is no need for any reaction, rehearsed or not. Jesse feels like he's known this face for years.

 

There is a ragged scar on it that starts in the middle of Genji's cheek, splits his lips, and is cut off by the metal (prosthetic, support, protection?) of his jaw. McCree wants to feel it, but he's frozen in place.

 

“What are you thinking?” Genji asks, his voice strained, and oh god, he's been holding his breath waiting for Jesse's reaction, and Jesse is an asshole.

 

What does one say to that? Is he supposed to rate his face like a shiny little object? It is handsome, it is beautiful, it is youthful and wise and damaged and perfect; Jesse doesn't want to say any of that. It's not what matters, and not what Genji would take as the truth.

 

Instead he says, “can I kiss you?”

 

Genji gets a little bit choked up. Jesse almost cancels the request.

 

Then, before he gets to blink, Genji's palm cradles his jaw and tugs him closer, closer, closer. The red eyes are almost fiery as they slip shut, but McCree doesn't mirror the behavior, and leans in with his eyes open. 

 

He makes the kiss a choice – as aware as he could be, as conscious as it gets, he moves his mouth against Genji's lips, wets them with his tongue, and there are some frantic feelings threatening to surface in his mind, but most of all – this feels right.

 

Jesse's been many things, but he's never been one to put things on hold, always abandoning thought for action; this time, though, he kisses Genji twice and lets himself be kissed back, and that is it. There are no fireworks, no explosions, no gunshots – there are warm arms around Genji as he hides his face in Jesse's shoulder, teary-eyed but smiling.

 

He has told Jesse of the nightmares he gets where his face is twisted and ruined and detached from his body to haunt him until either dies.

 

Perhaps, with time, those dreams can fade; they can give way to ones with soft lips and rough stubble on his skin.


End file.
